The Rise of Dark Link
by Iseijin
Summary: Tired of being a shadow, Dark Link seizes a part of Link's soul to become a physical being yet soon realizes that it would be a curse to them both. One-shot. Mild violence.


Disclaimer: All known characters belong to their respectful owner(s). I am not making any profit from this fic; this story is purely to entertain.

Author's Note: I have read a lot of Dark Link fics and it seems to be a popular idea to make Dark Link a different person from Link. I do not agree, Dark Link is supposed to the (as his name suggests) the darker side of the Hero, not another one of Ganondorf's minions forced to wear a black tunic. This fic shows my version how Dark Link seized the gift of life from Link only shortly after to find it would be a curse for both of them. One-shot.

THE RISE OF DARK LINK.

Located under the sapphire clear waters of Lake Hylia lies the infamous Water Temple, a sacred place of worship for the Zoras and guarded by the Sage of Water, Ruto, also Princess of her people.

Yet within these holy grounds dwells an unholy entity, a sulking shadow trapped in realm beneath the temple's waters. Casted into this domain after failing to stop the Hero of Time from going further but this entity does not sulk or angers at the thought for he cannot feel or be aware of the circumstances. He is but a mere empty shell of the said Hero's like, his form is outlined but all inside is bland.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoes softly against the walls, lightly at first but they soon begin to resound louder until the silhouette of a young man can be seen leaning against the doorway of this large chamber. Even though the journey through the water temple is not of much length, the challenges to get here would have been undoubtedly tedious for any ordinary man.

A sigh escapes from the stranger's lips and begins to walk toward the lone tree that mysteriously grew in the middle of the chamber. His leather boots create a small splashing sound with each step and some of those tiny sapphire droplets find their way towards his forest colored tunic.

The shadow-like entity examines the young man's movements. He has seen this man before, he knows it, but the lack of a spirit does not allow him to recall such thoughts. Curse whatever deity created him this way.

The stranger comes closer towards the lone tree, his steps are easy and unrushed, there is no water demon to slay this time but yet for many days he has come to this exact same spot. Why, you ask? Well, even he would like to know but he is not complaining in the least.

The tree is within grasp but he does not extend his hand to feel its coarse bark, he merely stares at the seemingly dead tree for no more than a few seconds and then turns around to lean casually on the said coarse bark of the trunk. Casual as may be yet his eyes are not let to wander on the span of this enigmatic shrine and are compelled to look down upon the clear waters in search of his furtive counterpart.

He does not need to search for long as the shadow itself makes its way cautiously toward him similar to a curious deer surprised in the midst of a forest. The shadow cannot manifest itself above the waters and is forced to look up at this odd green clad man as it inches closer apparently reluctant to continue after a desired length and both are left staring at each other for no benefit, no gain whatsoever.

The length of time the man stayed there is not determined by time itself but by how long he can stare into those deep, sunken, lifeless eyes of his counterpart without receiving a cold chill down his spine. How long can he stare at what he could have been, a mindless sword wielder, at how he could have become? It was like an odd test of nerves he had to perform.

It is not known how long they had continued this little fixture but soon enough, through the eyes of the lonesome shadow entity, the man had perceived his blood turn into ice as if experiencing an upsetting truth, a reality he rather now know of. Red ice, red with both his blood and this unnerving honesty, and only the blue fire of virtual deceit can thaw it out of his body. Thus, with one last glance at the shadowy truth of himself, the man began to make way, to depart, toward the outside world where happiness thrived in their sweet dishonesty of themselves.

Yet before the man could move beyond the exiting doors he heard something peculiar that caught his attention. Not a quiet voice nor a loud crash but a soft thud that reverberated and then dispersed like an echo. He turned around to try to find the source of this noise but there was none to be found, that is, until he saw a small splash coming into view every time that thud resonated. There was no dripping droplets falling from the ceiling that splattered on the water (and even if there was, the splash would not have been large enough) and the depth of the pool itself was not deep enough to contain frolicking fish.

Warily, the man approached such odd occurrence and what he saw surprised him indeed. It was none other than the shadowy counterpart, with his lifeless orbs and enigmatic presence, striking the surface of the water from below. It would let its arm drop lazily and then fling his entire shoulder in a semicircular motion until its fist struck against the watery barrier it had for a ceiling. A very odd bearing indeed.

The man was not sure how to make of the situation. It was mildly amusing but rather unusual for it seemed as if his counterpart was trying to get his attention (and somehow failing to noticed that it had already) and this was the very first time it had attempted to perform such an act so it was no of doubt the man was engrossed in such odd behavior.

He kneeled closer towards the water as the shadowy entity halted its performance. It looked up at his green clad counterpart and pointed to him. Pointing its darkened finger in a manner that suggested it was not condemning him for any wrongdoing but seemed to be silently imploring for something.

This received a strange look from the young man who, by the life of him, could not seem to understand his counterpart's cryptic message. He merely shot a perplexed look down and shrugged his shoulders, hoping that somehow the shadowy image of himself would understand but it did not (or rather, refused to understand) and continued to point at him.

Not being to sure at what else to do, the man pointed back at it. But it was done in a more lax manner, with no hint of tension. Slowly, he inched his finger closer and closer to the water until the liquid itself merely brushed against his skin; somehow not wanting, not daring, to go any further.

A dark hand shot out of the water like a shadowed spear and latched on to the young man's wrist. This caught him absolutely off guard and could do nothing but fall forward at the tug. Somehow, he went beyond the water barrier, beyond the tiles as if he were a specter, and his face along with most of his upper torso was submerged under the dim water. With his free hand and all his might he tried not to be pulled all the way in. He attempted to free himself but whatever got a hold on him had a good grip and was not about to let go that easily. If he was not released he would run out of air soon and there was already an uncomfortable pang in his lungs.

He felt something, rather someone, crawling on him. Gripping on the hem of his forest colored tunic and latching on to his shoulders. Over his head and shoulders, over his back, scaling his body as if it were a mountain. Ascending towards the surface.

Before he noticed that his hand was released he was jerked out of the water by a strange force. He barely had time to get a much-needed fresh gulp of air before he was slammed against the lone growing tree. The pain was not to hurt much yet it caused a decent amount of ache in his frightened state.

Footsteps silenced his rasping gasps and slowly looked up to see none other than his dark, ethereal counterpart standing in its ghostly presence just a few paces in front of him. Its empty gaze piercing his own with an expression of wraithlike thirst in its red glowing eyes, in its pose it remain composed but there was an impression that it was ready to pounce like a fierce beast upon its prey.

Instead of pouncing, the dark counterpart leisurely walked with an unnatural gait, as if a child that had just learned to use his legs, towards the green clad man. Alarmed, the young man was ready to unsheathe his sword but before he could take out the blade for attack the shadowy duplicate darted in inexplicable speed and gripped its cold fingers around his neck, lifting him with god-like strength and making the man drop his weapon in the process.

The sword struck the floor and its icy echo resonated all around the uncanny chamber a number of times before the sound dispersed and the cold silence again reigned.

There was no noise to be heard apart from the hoarse breaths of the young green clad man due to his counterpart's death-like grasp on his life. He made an effort to liberate himself but most of his strength had been drained to the earlier struggle. The shadow entity had no expression in his actions; it looked on as the man within its grasp hung on to what little life he had left, but its intention was not to kill him. It needed him alive.

Gently, it began to loosen its grip on the man. Not to free him but just enough so it wouldn't end his life. As it did so, the shadowy being began to draw its indistinct face closer to his until the man's warm, rasping breath clashed against its own cold, dead exhale. The man received just proximity with a slow, earnest look into its face; not quite a look of fear, yet full of doubt and questioning as to what purpose this might be.

His answer came in the form of a kiss. An unearthly and assertive kiss upon his lips.

This course of action he did not expect and tried to struggle against this but to avail. His counterpart's lips would not part from his and felt his strength fail him as it did so. It was as if his very soul was being extracted through his mouth. His eyes were growing heavy with an unnatural tire as were his limbs, with every breath he exhaled the inhale was less and less and closed his lids over the tired eyes, waiting for death itself to free him from the clutches.

Yet no such death came and soon felt those cold, aggressive lips grow warm and subtle. Shortly, those same lips departed and he was free to breathe again yet he was not free from the deadly grasp.

With what strength he had, the man opened his eyes to witness a man staring back at him. A tanned young man with silvery hair gently falling down over his piercing, crimson colored eyes, and a soft sneer apparent on his face. He wore a dark colored tunic, safe to say it was dyed a nightly black, and a matching dark colored cap on his head.

With a scoff, the man let go of the green clad man in his grasp and commenced on examining himself. First his hands, which bore gauntlets similar to that of the other man and similar boots on his feet. Upon looking down on his reflection in the shallow pool, there was an obvious pleased look on his face. He gently skimmed his face with his finger.

When he was done approving of his looks, the dark clad man shoot a glance at his green clad counterpart.

The other young man gave a quick fleeting look to his fallen weapon and attempted to make a grab for it but his progress was halted when another sword shot out towards his neck and was inches away from a fatal stab. His eyes followed the length of the sword until they came upon the piercing eyes of the dark warrior whom retreated his weapon and sheathed it upon his back in a swift and extremely elegant manner, flaunting his skill with the blade.

Dark Link had been borne.

The dark entity progressed to make its way out of the chamber but halted when he heard his counterpart picking up his blade. He turned his head around to see the young man shifting to a fighting stance; his shield raised, his blade ready, his eyes deadly. He did not respond to his counterpart's display but merely continued to walk away.

The young warrior lunged at his darker self.

Both blades clashed. The force of such power made both men slide to opposite ends, picking up a cloud of mist in doing so. Their eyes met, realizing that the person on the other side was someone they could never be. The young Hero who wished he could defy both enemy and friend, and the dark soul whom longed to have a purpose.

Their blades spoke for their frustration. Each passing swipe, each stabbing thrust, said what they could never utter. Their shields were their praise; their swords were their insults. When sword clashed with shield, it was not only one person's attempt to protect their body but to protect their mind from knowing how weak they really were.

In an attempt, the Hero managed to cut the shoulder of his enemy, only to scream as his own shoulder ripped open.

Each wound that one managed to inflict, the other would receive the same wound. If one were to stab his opposite, then he in turn would feel the icy blade penetrate his own flesh. A cut to the cheek for one meant a cut to the cheek would appear for the other. To know what kind of wounds one warrior suffered, one would only have to look at the other warrior.

Despite of the circumstance, neither would back down.

The water soon tinted red with their blood. Their screams of pain and success echoed the same chilling way inside the chamber. There was no one else in the world but them.

The dark warrior soon got the upper hand and had his blade looming over the chest of his fallen counterpart. He raised it, his eyes full of unsavory bloodlust, but he never brought it down. There laid his enemy, barely alive, helpless, the moment he was created for finally concluding but for the life of him he could not bring his sword into his enemy's heart. That sapphire blue soul held the key to his existence. His crimson red soul held the key to his. If he were to thrust his sword unto his counterpart's heart, wouldn't his heart receive the same punishment? If one were to live, then both could live; but if one were to die, would both end up dead?

He retreated a few steps, letting his sword drop to his side. This new thought frightened him. He had managed to seize the gift of life only to find out it was a curse.

Author's Note: Tell me what you think. Is this a logical way to portray Dark Link? Are you happy with Dark Link being a different being or prefer that he come and be part of the Link himself, as a sort of physical conscience? Thank you for your time readers!

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